Waterbury evening Democrat., 1887-12-15
CHAPTER xxx.
A DAY OF BLOOD.

The 18th of June was a bright summer day. Our party in the jail were making merry with games and songs, utterly un- suspicious of immediate injury. But one of our number, looking out of the win dow, saw q squadron of cavalry approach ing and called attention to it. There was nothing unusual about this, for we often noticed bands of troops on the streets; but they now halted ct our gate and sur and startling
 The doors down stairs opened. We heard the shuf11e of feet in the hall and the clink of officers sabers as they ascended the stairway We held our breath in painful attention, while they paused at our door, unlocked and threw 1t open, and then one of the number, stepping before the others, read the names of the seven tried at Knoxville. They were ordered to respond and stand in line before him, which they did. Robin son was sick with fever. but 8 guard as- sisted him. to rise, and he stood with the rest. Then they were all told to follow over into the opposite room, while the Tennesseeans there were brought in re- turn to us.
 With throbbing hearts we asked one another the meaning of these strange pro- ceedings. Some supposed our comrades were about to receive their acquittal; others, still more sanguine, that they would be paroled, preparatory to an eX- change. But we had no confidence in these suggestions even while we made them. It would not have been necessary to surround the prison for such purposes; and the faces of the officers who had en- tered our room were solemn and stern.
 was sick, too, having suffered a good deal recently with malarial fever, but rose to my feet oppressed with unutter- able fear-the most deadly I ever remem- Der feeling A half witted fellow who had been put in with the Tennesseeans came to me and wanted to play game of cards! I had been fond of the game but never played it after this day! Now I struck the greasy pack from his hand and bade him leave me.
 From over the way we heard the sound of voices, muff1ed and indistinct because of the two iron doors between; then the opening and shutting of doors, the passage of several persons up and down the stair way, and last the sound as of solemn reading.
 A little while after-I cannot judge of the length of time spent in such fearful agony-the ministers in the other room think it must have been more than an hour-the door opened and our comrades came back, one by one; but the change in them was fearful. My own friend, George D. Wilson, was leading, his step firm, his form erect, but his hands firmly tied, and his face pale as death. "What is it?'' some one asked in whisper, for his ap- peararce silenced every one.
 'We are to be executed immediately ;
 was the appalling reply, given in g. low
 tone, but with thrilling distinctness. The others followed him into the room, al tied ready for the scaffold. The officers
 were standing in the door, and barely
 granted them the privilege of taking us
 once more by the hand before death
 Then came the farewells, hopeless in this
 world. It was a moment that seemed a1
 age of measureless, heart breaking sorrow 1 What had occurred in the other room
 while we were separated? The narrative
 of the ministers will make that plain. | Rev. w. J. Scott was requested by Col
 G. J. Foreacre, then provost marshal il Atlanta, to visit some Federal prisoner
 at the city jail who were about to die. Ol
 his way MT. Scott called on Rev. Georg
 G. N. MacDonen and asked him to g
 along. At the jail they were taken int